


Bookends

by goldengan



Category: Detroit: Become Human (Video Game)
Genre: Angst with a Happy Ending, Best Friends, Depression, Explicit Language, Falling In Love, Fluff and Angst, Friends to Lovers, M/M, POV Second Person, Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Post-Pacifist Best Ending (Detroit: Become Human), Suicidal Thoughts
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-22
Updated: 2018-07-23
Packaged: 2019-06-14 15:18:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,238
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15391626
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/goldengan/pseuds/goldengan
Summary: Life prepares you.Sometimes the world gives you pieces of what is yet to come. You might look back and see it was a real-life bookend. And those don’t happen often.Those are rare.





	1. Chapter 1

It starts slow and builds. At first it feels natural, normal even. You don’t notice how every other thought is dominated by that someone else. It’s easy to justify when they’re an integral part of your life. 

It takes a long time for you to even catch the thought. And, when you do, it’s almost laughable. A throwaway thought, a silly notion that accidentally popped into your mind. Until, that is, they’re in your life less and less. Then, almost inexplicably, there’s an emptiness. A pain that you can’t simply shrug off. He’s your best friend and you miss him, that’s all. But telling him that is kinda gay. Not that being gay really matters anymore, but there’s that fear of rejection because what if he doesn’t feel the same?

And it’s almost as if in answer that you two are alone together. Nothing special, just two friends shooting the shit, kicking back, and drinking some beer. David got very drunk, very fast. Suddenly he’s turned to you with worry in his eyes. It hurts because you hate to see your best friend suffering. Your best friend. He’s your best friend. Only.

“I’ve been wanting to tell you something, Hank…”

“Shoot,” you say as you shrug. 

“Well, I uh…” 

He’s fiddling with the label. It’s peeling up on one side while the other side is flaking off. You can’t remember where you heard it, but someone once said that if you peel off the beer label in one piece with no rips that someone loves you. You think on how that’s obviously wrong as you stare at the bottle in David’s hands. 

“Before I got with Kat, I always thought something would happen between us. Isn’t that weird?”

“It’s not,” You say and you’re not looking at him, hoping your hair obscures your face enough so he can’t see whatever your face is doing.

He looks up at you, suddenly emboldened, “Wait, really?” 

You scoff, brush him off. 

Don’t do this, don’t start something. He’s with someone that makes him happy. You couldn’t make anyone happy even if you tried. 

“I figured I just read the situation wrong, you know? You were so busy with your training and…”

“Don’t worry about it,” you lie to him with a smile.

Time passes but the heartache doesn’t. It’s been weeks and you think about that conversation often. Every single time your heart hurts you think of what you could have done differently. But, you know yourself, it never would have happened no matter what. 

And then you hear word travel around the precinct. You’ve heard all those words separately, of course, but when they’re all strung together in a sentence like that you wonder if the pain will ever go away. A pain in your stomach, an angry flutter in your chest, a feeling that nothing will ever be the same again materializes when you merely think the words. 

The problem, the real problem, is that she’s a nice woman. A very nice woman. If Kat was a little meaner maybe you’d tell her fiancé that you love him. But, you know, that’s fucked up. Life isn’t a romcom. So, you don’t. And you promise yourself that you never will. 

The pain feels like a solid presence in your heart the closer the wedding date becomes. You wonder how you’re going to get through this. How can you be normal around him ever again? And then they have a son and he’s a reminder of everything you never had the guts to say aloud. David asks you that if something were to happen to them, him and his wife, would you take care of his child? You say yes because, well, you’ve never been any good at telling him no. Because David was always meticulous to your carefree attitude and there never should have been a doubt he’d make a plan like this. Because while you just became Lieutenant, he just became a Detective. Things have been lucky for you lately, all things considering, so if anything were to happen to anyone it would most likely be you.

But, two years later, you find out exactly how wrong you were. Cole is still so young and you wonder if you’ll ever be able to explain everything to him. Like how incredible a father your best friend was and how much you loved him. You make sure to instill a healthy fear of cars in him. A healthy fear of black ice. Not to run out in the middle of the street. And, when Cole gets older, you’d tell him not to drive drunk. It sounded like normal parent talk. You’d tell him one day what it all really meant.

There’s little time to be in pain, you find, when there’s a child that needs you for everything. Then Cole starts looking more and more like his father. When he smiles with enough teeth and crinkled eyes, you see your best friend. It twists everything good and bad you’ve ever felt into one, compact being. Over time that being becomes Cole. And Cole deserves nothing but the best.

* * *

It starts slow and builds. At first it feels natural, normal even. You don’t notice how every other thought is dominated by that someone else. It’s easy to justify when they’re an integral part of your life. 

It takes a long time for you to even catch the thought. And, when you do, it feels familiar. Like coming home and feeling the warmth from the heater after a long walk out in the cold. Like being next to the person you care about and just enjoying each other’s company. No worry about what to say and how to say it. Then, almost inexplicably, there’s an emptiness. Connor is out of the house more often than he’s in. He’s out with his android friends doing post-revolution things. Yes, Connor invites you but he stops after a while. After you kept saying no. After all, you don’t have a place with them. And, now, you’re alone. Telling Connor you miss him seems so small in comparison to the greater good. Especially when Connor might not feel the same.

And it’s almost as if in answer that you two are alone together. It’s nothing special, just two friends sitting on the couch, watching some TV, and petting Sumo. When the next episode is queuing up, Connor turns to you with worry in his eyes. You’ve seen him covered in his own blue blood but he wasn’t deviant then. Now, on the other side of his humanity, Connor could fully feel emotions. It hurts because now he knows pain and it shows in his features.

“I’ve been meaning to talk to you, Lieutenant…”

“Shoot,” you say as you shrug. 

Connor looks to you, question in his eyes, “I’m not sure how to begin.” 

You’ve told Connor over and over to be careful with staring overlong at humans. But Connor, for all his deviancy and doubts, stared at you and told you that you liked it when he stared. You wonder how much Connor understands as you stare at those stunning doe eyes.

“Before living here with you, I never knew what love or acceptance felt like. Isn’t that strange?”

“It’s not,” You say and you’re not looking at him, hoping your hair obscures your face enough so he can’t see whatever your face is doing.

“It’s not?” He sounds relieved.

You scoff, brush him off. 

Don’t do this, don’t start something. You’re too old and too ugly to love someone so young and so beautiful. You never learned how to make someone happy, you skipped that step to jump-start your career for all the good it did you. There was a life you could have lived but you lied to yourself, so your time had passed on by. You couldn’t make anyone happy even if you tried. 

“Lately you’ve been a bit indifferent and I was worried you didn’t know how I feel about you.”

“Don’t worry about it,” you lie to him with a smile. Even though your insides are screaming at what he might be implying. But you don’t want to push your hopefulness onto this poor android. 

Time passes but the heartache doesn’t. It’s been weeks and you think about that conversation often. Every single time your heart hurts you think of what you could have done differently. But, you know yourself, it never would have happened no matter what. 

And then you hear word travel around the precinct. You’ve heard all those words separately, of course, but when they’re all strung together in a sentence like that you wonder if the pain will ever go away. A pain in your stomach, an angry flutter in your chest, a feeling that nothing will ever be the same again materializes when you merely think the words. 

The problem, the real problem, is that Connor hadn’t told you yet. He wanted to leave his job, huh? Well, good for him. Truly. You’ve only ever wanted him to be happy anyways. If that was away from here, or even away from you, then you would let him go. You’ve done it before and you could do it again.

The pain feels like a solid presence in your heart the closer the date becomes. Fowler told you the exact date and you figured you’d never remember it, but you did. It’s always on your mind. And it’s not as if he doesn’t spend time alone with you because he definitely does. Now more than before. So why should you bring it up? That made absolutely no fucking sense. It was his decision to sit next to you day after day and say nothing. You have nothing to say to him about it if he can’t even bring it up. 

But you find out exactly how wrong you were. It’s a day before and you’re more snippy with him. You’re angry at things that never actually bothered you before but now Connor’s actions seemed cruel. You’re screaming at one another about something stupid, you barely remember what the fuck triggered this in the first place, and he says something about wanting to leave. He meant for a moment to gather his thoughts, you know he did, you know how Connor works. But you’re wounded and you’re angry and you’re bitter and you want him to feel some modicum of the pain you do. 

But there’s little time to be in pain, you find, when you’re once again at the bottom of a bottle. You were doing so well with your drinking for so long. But, after Connor left with a tear stained, blue dusted face it feels like the right thing to do. He’s better off without someone like you dragging him down. This whole situation proves that. And Connor deserves nothing but the best.


	2. Chapter 2

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Well. 
> 
> You never expected Connor to ever use your first name.
> 
> Ever.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I honestly didn’t remember David Cage’s name, somehow idk man, when I wrote David as the first bookend. I feel like it’s too late now and I want to fight Cage in a hot car about it.

Your preteen years were rough. You were always angry and you were always hiding away to cry. When your mom got sick of it, she took you to the doctor. After he asked you what felt like a million questions, he told your mother that you had clinical depression. There was a name for it, sure, but it didn’t help. Once you got home, your mother told you not to bottle your feelings any longer. That if the feeling comes then you must let it live and ask it why it wants to stay. That you don’t have to let it stay forever, you could kick it out at any time, but it needs to be heard. She told you that, yes, this was difficult but life never gave you anything you couldn’t handle.

“Sometimes,” she said with your head on her lap, “the world gives you pieces of what is yet to come. You might look back and see it was a real-life bookend. And those don’t happen often,” she carded her fingers through your hair as she concluded, “those are rare.”

It’s only now, when you’re over fifty years old, and you’re in your bed with a whiskey bottle in your hand, freely sobbing, that you realize how right she was.

Before you thought losing Cole was the bookend to losing David, but that wasn’t so. Watching Cole die was its own beast, its own brand of soul wrenching agony. You didn’t see David die. One day he was just gone. As if walked out the door and you never saw him since. 

And, just like David did for a time, Connor slotted into your life seamlessly. Connor was living with you for so long that you sometimes forgot he wasn’t always in your life. But now it’s the middle of the night and everything you’ve ever done wrong is crashing into you. The past is now one large entity with a mind of its own and it wants you to suffer. 

You lost your best friend and your son. For a time, it was amazing that you allowed yourself to live through that. And now you’ve lost Connor. What could possibly be your reason to live now?

The front door opens but Sumo doesn’t bark. You can’t think of a reason Connor would come back. 

You hear the back door open, Sumo rush out, and Connor walking through the hallway. You didn’t bother to quiet your sobs. Connor can hear almost anything without effort so there’s little point. A soft knock on your bedroom door followed by Connor calling for you.

“Lieutenant?”

You wished he listened when you told him to stop calling you by your title. And now it’s extra strange considering that he doesn’t work with you anymore.

He knocks again and you’re back in the past. 

You had been ducking David and wallowing in a depressive state, leaving the house only for work. Barely eating. Kind of bathing. You needed to do your laundry as you were almost out of clean clothes. 

When the door unlocks you remember you had given David a key. You both lived by yourselves, so it was smart precaution. He knocked on your bedroom door and you quieted your sobs. After a moment, he walks in and there’s a pause. You figure he’s looking around your dark room. Then, he tells you that he’s going to do your laundry. 

It’s strange and you think he’s joking, but he’s not. You’re just laying there as he does the laundry. In between waiting for the washer to finish and then the dryer, David sits next to you and the bed and talks. He doesn’t ask about anything and just tells you about his day. Eventually you feel comfortable enough to start asking questions. And then you’re having a full-blown conversation. You still can’t bring yourself to look at him though. He walks away at the buzzer, brings the clean clothes to the room, jokes that you’ve got to fold them yourself because, “You gotta do _something_ around here, Hank.” He puts the basket down and says he’ll pick you up for work in the morning. You almost tell him not to bother, but he’s out the door before you can say anything. 

Connor knocks again. Opens the door. Even with the light from the hallway pouring in, you can see a red light on the walls that wasn’t there before. Connor was thinking. He was looking around your room.

You keep opening your mouth wondering at what the fuck to say to this situation. Why did you allow this android to be somehow swayed by you? Why did you allow yourself to think your life could be better with him in it? You don’t deserve him. 

After about a minute of not answering, Connor doesn’t take the hint. He walks slowly into the room, you can hear his shoes against the carpet and his pants legs swish together. In a moment he’s in front of you and you don’t say anything. Your hair is matted damp to your face. It’s obscuring most of your vision. You don’t want to look at him but he’s above you and glowing, a beacon of all your failures.

Then, he’s on the bed and you refuse to say anything again. He moves closer and rubs a hand on your shoulder in slow, soft circles.

“It’s okay,” he says in a way you’ve never heard him speak before. It’s low and soothing and you feel like you’re taking advantage of it.

You’re staring at his other hand. It’s on in his lap in front of your kinda covered vision. You don’t know what Connor can see, what he knows about your situation, but you don’t move from watching his hand. Connor used to be stony in his stillness but deviancy changed that. Now he felt more like what you always imagined Connor could be. What he had the potential for if he allowed himself to chase it. 

Connor, for all his android tendencies, had been becoming his own person and you didn’t notice until now as he regales you with his day. He doesn’t ask any questions, he’s speaking to the room and you. All the while, he’s rubbing your arm and your heart hurts little less until you drift into sleep.

When you wake up your laundry is done, coffee is waiting in the pot with the warmer turned on, and the trash was taken out. Sumo’s on his dog bed looking particularly tired, his food and water bowl full. You look around the house but you don’t see Connor. Work is in a few hours so you get ready for the day. When you go to leave, you see a sticky note on the door. 

_I’ll be at Markus’ if you need anything_

You promise yourself that you’ll never contact him.

~

These past few nights had been rough. You’re angry, you’re lonely, and, worst of all, you know it’s self-imposed. It’s Friday night and you’re grocery shopping. “Oldies” music is playing over the speakers. You aren’t too happy that music from your youth is now considered “old” but that’s just how it is on this bitch of an Earth. It was a stupid thing to be mad about considering, you know, your whole life. But now you’re back on your bullshit: angry at everything.

A song comes on and it’s difficult to place. The singer, the song title, it all eludes you. But, despite this, you know every word.

_Don’t wanna love you if you don’t love me_  
_Don’t wanna need you when you won’t need me, too_  
_Don’t wanna tell you this now, but it wouldn’t be right_  
_If I didn’t tell you this tonight_

You find yourself looking up at the ceiling and wondering why? Why this song? Why in the fuck is a stupid song, that sounds like it’s from the very early 2000’s, having this effect on you? You’re giving a song this much power to make you angry and you’re not even halfway fucking done with the shopping.

You’re in the bread aisle and it’s playing.

You’re in the canned vegetable aisle and it’s still playing.

You’re in fucking frozen food and that piece of shit is still fucking playing and you’re about to fucking scream.

_It was just something in your eyes_  
_That made me realize_  
_But now I hear voices deep inside_  
_Tellin’ me, tellin’ me, it’s you and I_

It’s the end of the song. It’s done, it’s over. But those stupid words repeat in your stupid brain, the stupid song still has a power even when Britney Spears plays next.

At least the alcohol is next to the frozen food because you need a fucking drink.

By the time you get home, you nearly forget about how stomach ulcer angry you were. Maybe it’s because you drank some of that whiskey you just bought. You open the door and Connor is sitting on the couch with Sumo in his lap. He was almost unrecognizable in his new clothing. A terrible and heady mix of hate and love wash over you because, God, he looks unbelievable in that shirt. It’s showing off his neck and collar bones and you’re staring at his lips and you realize that neither of you had said anything for a good minute.

“Hello, Hank.”

Well. You never expected Connor to ever use your first name. Ever.

You stumble on your words and feet and then he stands, ready to help you. His LED is spinning yellow. He’s thinking about you. He’s worried about you. How fucking noble of him.

“I got it,” you mumble, even though you both know you’re wrong.

He takes a step back. You walk passed him to put the food on the kitchen table. You can’t remember if any of it is perishable, so you walk away. You had to deal with whatever the fuck he was doing in your house before you could do anything else.

“You should leave, Connor.”

“But I don’t want to.”

Oh, this fucker had to be putting your groceries away.

“Connor,” you stand up straighter, hoping it exudes energy you don’t have, “you have your whole life ahead of you and it’s not with me. You already made that perfectly clear.”

Connor takes a few steps towards the kitchen. “How so?”

You begin to speak but Connor cuts you off.

“Explain to me, exactly, how I made that clear to you, Hank.”

Your eyes narrow as he takes another step forward.

“I know about how self-deprecating you are, but I didn’t know that meant you were oblivious too.”

“Well excuse me, you fucking brat.” Your teeth are bared and you’re absolutely ready to throw this fucker out if need be, “How else am I supposed to take you sitting here, in my house, day in and day out and not fucking tell me anything? I had to hear the news from Fowler! And you live here! With me! In this fucking house and you couldn’t even say anything?”

“What news?” Connor’s LED is red now. He steps forward again, his feet in the kitchen.

“Don’t you play dumb with me, you idiot twink!”

“Hank.”

“What? You were just gonna leave without telling me?”

“Hank.”

“You were going to leave without saying goodbye?”

“Hank! I never left!”

He’s in your space now and your jaw drops.

“I still work for the Detroit Police.”

You felt his artificial breath on your face and it makes you so angry that everything about him is a tool to use against you.

“I was thinking about transferring to a different department.”

You remember the first time you laid eyes on him. Drunk in a bar and a man walks in asking for you. When you look up there’s an instant attraction and an instant pain.

“I did transfer after you made me leave the house.”

CyberLife would make android that looked like him. They knew you were assigned the deviancy cases, Connor told you as much, and they wanted to keep you in line.

“Best me and Fowler could figure, you only heard some of what he was telling you. That you shut off the rest.”

Shove a ghost in your face and you’ll behave.

“You know that I can read your vital signs. Your micro-movements.”

Connor’s eyes are dancing around your face. His LED is blinking red. He’s scanning you right now and it’s not fair. He’s this magnificent fusion of human traits and android features. Connor became his own person because, in the end, he was never David. You put that on him.

“The way you use my name. The way you speak to me and no one else. And even how you’re acting right now.”

You swallow around the lump in your throat, his eyes dart to your neck. You let out a breath as tears well up in your eyes.

“I know you love me too, Hank.”

His words sting with the truth and it takes everything in you not to react. You want to cry, scream, punch, walk away. Instead, your jaw clenches in hopes you don’t say anything.

He shouldn’t want you. No one should want you. Doesn’t he understand your track record? That you kill everything you touch? That you caring about him is a death sentence?

“Do you still want me to go?” His voice is quiet and his lips are right next to yours.

You’re staring at his mouth and you want to kiss him. To shut him up or to prove him right, you’re not sure. All you know for sure is that you’re so tired of running. Here’s this man, this stunning android, that wants you. And, foolishly, you know that you’ve never been any good at telling him no.

It’s difficult to tell who moved first. But, once your lips are together it’s a glorious benediction.

Your heart swells as he pulls you into him. Your hands are on his face, on his neck, and in his hair. He’s making the sweetest noises at your touch.

His lips open and your tongue dips inside. Kissing Connor feels like a glorious static and it leaves you breathless. His chest moves as if he needs air as well, but you know he doesn’t.

He pulls back, his pupils blown wide, and he asks you what you’re thinking. His LED finally a calm blue.

You say, “I love you.”

You promise yourself that he’ll always know, for certain, that you do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Songfic in 2018?! Fuck, I’m really showing my age now. It’s “Gotta Tell You” by Samantha Mumba and it truly is the product of 2000 holy crap. 
> 
> let me know what you enjoyed about the fic pretty please ❤️
> 
> you can follow me on my twitter [goldenganjj](https://twitter.com/goldenganjj) for fic updates and fandom nonsense


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